Monday, February 21, 2011

Brad and friends

Some call it "The Bachelor." This season it may as well be called Brad and friends* my opinion at least. I guess the girls have names and identities too (beyond emotional brunette, insecure blonde and southern bell).
Since I learn so very much from this deep, thought-provoking ABC hit, I thought documenting a few of my findings might be beneficial...
to the world at large.

1. On a home visit (the first parental meeting in real life), a statue and multiple marble pillars in the home...means they are loaded and their daughter will be getting a rose.

2. "See a future" means one could hang out for longer than the length of a "One-on-one date" and wouldn't mind making out with you once the cameras have come and gone.

3. Smart people respond "Si" when asked how they are, in French.

4. "Fair enough" should be said often and in various situations, especially when feeling slightly uncomfortable.

5. "Rock solid," "110%," and "no doubt about it" all mean the same thing.

Thanks Brad and friends, I am yet again, nothing short of enlightened this evening.
Good night ya"ll.

*Note: I really wanted to say Brad and hos...but it just didn't seem right.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

You done good

While some of my kind may swoon over a day dedicated to Conroy's, See's and scallop-edged hearts, I have just never been a huge fan of the old St. Valentines' Day. Shocker. Perhaps it's due to some past V-days resulting in multiple texts asking if I'd like "join" romantic escapades like getting "McDonald's and a 12-pack." BTW, did anyone else just realize society really should use the word swoon more often?
Anyhoo, I'm not going to pretend to loathe a gift or steak and red wine din thrown my way in mid February, but when that "V hyphen Day" falls on a Monday and I have laundry to put away and significant TV shows to watch, I honestly could do without it altogether.

This year the way the boo made me "celebrate" this love-ly day was just right. Partly because it was carried out the day before (A Sunday-Funday hello?!) and partly because the formula was so very brilliant...

It started with him seeking out my EXPERTise in organization. The only payment I require for my assistance being a tall, nonfat, decaf, iced latte in a grande cup with room for extra ice Obviously. After some spastic organizing (I just get really excited) of his various man things (try not to be pervy, I'm referring to tools and bolts and such), we ran an impromptu "errand" to The Sports Authority. This has become our fave spot as we shop for tents and sleeping bags and other hardcore "gear"...we don't camp, we "backpack" try to keep that straight. This year has brought new activities into my life, okay?!

So, being the go-with-the-flow gal I am (or pretend to be depending on who you ask), I strolled through the inspiring store without a care. We arrived to just the right isle and he bent down on one knee...

to pick up his phone which fell off the right side of his belt (that's where men over 30 holster their Droids-sexy right?), and said the words I've been longing to hear for months...

"Babe, I wanna buy you a good pair of blades. Pick out whatever ones you want."

Clearly I went for the turquoise K2's. I mean, If you're going to Rollerblade, you might as well do it right.
He maaay have had me pick out some new Nike (perfect for tanning legs while blading) shorts to wear as well. When you give a mouse a cookie...

After the obvious next several hours of the day (boardwalk blading) we finished up our adventure with the best hamburger and cold beer (Bud Light of course, I have a figure to maintain, hello?) in town. This is where you get a plug: Rocky's in PB=pure glory. If you don't agree I'll...disagree with you.

It was a perfect day.

With the sentiments behind us, the actual day that belongs to Valentine included an out of the ordinary Monday night rendezvous with a fantastic spread of chili dogs and tots...and chocolate chip cookies for dessert. Which I baked, uh thank you...and placed in a heart shaped dish. I'm coming around. Proud?

While I would NEVER use my blog to write a love note (who does that?) I will say just this...

Boo, you done good.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Don't make fun of Brad

I'm going to admit something (this confession theme keeps reoccurring, I think I may be reacquainting myself with my Catholic roots) Anyway....
I have a boo. And to be honest, after reviewing some older posts, it's hard to believe I met a man I actually want to spend considerable amounts of time with. I'm sorta but not really, kidding. Regardless, I believe the reason I've allowed this Quarter-Latin-Prize to make himself comfortable in my little world is because (and I'll say this one and ONE time only): My boo is The Best. Like the Best of the Best. No I'm not going to make that my status update. Calm down. What I'm not admitting right now is that I've been tricked into falling in love, but rather that the man I've fallen in love WITH...makes fun of Brad.

Brad who? Join me in 2011...Brad is this season's Bachelor. Let's explore together...
Brad is a sweet, southern gentleman, whose body is clearly the worst.
B-Rad is the first of the Baches, remember we're in season 15 (episode 6) here, who isn't a complete tool. The poor, except actually quite rich, guy is just trying to keep everyone happy; in other words preventing ELEVEN women from crying once they've started pouring their "heart" out all over his obviously hideous face. The boo (back to mine, not ABC's) finds it an absolute riot when his radio show pal Stern calls Brad a "retard" and pokes at his habit of saying, "Gurls....please" soaked in southern draw. *Please note that my opinion on the whole Howard Stern thing is...well let's just say I'm coming around to it. A wise woman once said 'tis better to have a man laugh at chauvinism, than act like a pig.
I'm gonna go with that.

While the opinion on Brad is something I'm willing to negotiate, I still feel I need to make a very strong "suggestion:"


Tuesday, February 8, 2011


I'm just going to share what I think will be helpful for some...from a group of us that prefer to be called "Rosy."

When us pale kids become really, really "Rosy" not in a cute "blushed" way, but in an almost purple way, you can rest assure from this day forward, that we KNOW about it before YOU tell us. You don't have to tell us. I mean, you can't possibly think we don't notice we have turned from white to crimson in a matter of seconds.

I personally have the following harsh rebuttal prepared for just the right day when my beat red Ora gets me so riled up I respond to such obvious information with: "Are ya kidding me?! Of COURSE I know I'm red. I could fry an egg on these cheeks! Now stop drawing more damn attention to them!!" It's good right?

This prepped work of art would've been super appropriate last week. Appropriate if I wanted to be fired of course, no pun intended. After the most frustrating and circular phone conversation with a dense (for lack of better post-appropriate word) student, my beastly glow took over my (and everyone Else's) Friday afternoon.
In a conversation like this one, where the point of statements like, "Like I explained THIRTY minutes ago..." have been reached, I am WELL AWARE that my face...and neck...and ears are all extremely red, and hot, and maybe even a little itchy. I maaaay have snootily whispered into the phone, "You might want to write this down as I say it for the last time..." but I can't recall. Hm.

Long story short, please don't tell us we're red, I promise you it's all we're thinking about already and we surprisingly don't care to explore the possibilities of its source, diagnosis etc. After 20 "some" years, we've been there, done that. We learned reeaal quick that drinking wine, chasing a soccer ball down a field and getting embarrassed ALL have the same outcome for us. Which is why we try our hardest to only involve ourselves in one of those ;)

There, now you've learned something new.
Any time.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Oh wow

Sometimes people, other people not me, have a certain opinion about things (now you know this isn't about me, I never have opinions). This opinion blossoms when these people are in a certain situation in life and then...

these people are suddenly in a different situation and well, their opinion(s) might kind of change, without them knowing it. Maybe it even sneaks up on them like a thief in the night. Who knows.

What the hell am I talking about you ask. Don't act naive! You know what kind of behavior I am referring to.
Here it goes...try not to judge.

It was a long week. The kinda week where you have so little time you get your grocery shopping done on your thirty minute lunch break. Awesome. With yet another friend leaving the good 'ol Red, White and Blue to teach abroad, maybe even a lot of broads ;) I had the privilege of making her one last American meal...clearly meat, cheese and cheap beer had to be a part of it. Post work, with Food de America in hand, I rushed home, got in a swift walk (to balance out my habit of eating the previously mentioned cuisine) and started the "gourmet" meal I had planned. Did I mention I had to shower for my guests as well...obviously a lot to accomplish in a mere few hours...for a struggling child like myself.

When the boo arrived (white girls can say boo if they want) with two dozen long-stem roses in one hand (why does writing out the words "long-stem" make it sound SO corny? I'm just being descriptive GOSH) and a six pack of delicious ales in the other, I have to admit I defaulted to that of a gushing/blushing (whatever they do) freakin' girl. So how did I respond to this (aside from a brief victory dance in the comfort of my own apron), I took a photo of them...doesn't end there...then I posted a status update...on The Book of Faces.
Oh Wow.

I mean sure my married girlfriends "liked" the photo and maybe even giggled at my bragadocious tag line, something about making dinner and getting flowers, neither here nor there. Now that my mind is clear and I'm not starving and stressed (okay maybe I'm always just a little of both) I see the error of my ways. Honestly, what respectable cynical writer gives into the Look how great my boyfriend is CRAZE?
This one.

Please forgive